


Quietly Jaded

by Mirkys_Concubine



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, BAMF Peter Parker, Beta Peter, Cocaine, Dark, Dark Peter Parker, Drugs, Dubious Consent, Gen, M/M, Omega Peter Parker, Peter Parker is a Little Shit, Protective Avengers, Strippers & Strip Clubs, The Author Regrets Nothing, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:54:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24785746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mirkys_Concubine/pseuds/Mirkys_Concubine
Summary: Major AU.Peter Parker is an Omega masquerading as a Beta. A story of student loans, Avengers wanting Spiderman, Avengers wanting Peter Parker for his Omega status, and Peter just done with them. He doesn't need them - he already has an Alpha. Not the best Alpha but... Well... Fuck.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Avengers Team, Wilson Fisk/Peter Parker
Comments: 24
Kudos: 135





	1. How it starts

**Author's Note:**

> Written at 3am.  
> What the fuck is this?  
> Should be short.  
> We'll see.  
> No beta, mistakes are mine.  
> Tags are subject to change and are as fluid as my updates.  
> **shinedown 45 - some lyrics used.

Quietly Jaded

* * *

Peter hadn't always been the silent type. It grew on him with time. Losing friends, losing family, it was just easier to not talk than to talk - besides school there wasn't much to talk about.

Not like he could discuss being Spiderman?

With college dreams came college debt and even with grants and scholarships, student loans kept a roof over his head and food in his stomach.

Legally no one had to know his gender. He didn't act like most Omegas or Alphas so many people presumed he was a beta which wasn't a bother.

Betas were a safe median.

If Peter Parker was a Beta then so was Spiderman. 

Hero's or vigilante's of justice weren't titles Omegas carried. Not that they were incapable but mostly the world was a shitty place and he was safer as a Beta than Omega.

No worries of being snatched.

No worries of his degree somehow being mishandled.

No worries of being treated like a damsel in need of a minder. Modern America, as progressive as any first world country, was still archaic in nature to a Omegas ability to cope outside of a Pack or Alphas knot.

.

It started as a curiosity or so that's how Peter saw it as. The Avengers paying attention to him was... Unneeded but the geek in him was intrigued.

First was Tony Stark aka Iron Man who appeared from nowhere one cool Autumn evening. It was a quiet night, the witching hour, a time where nothing really happened in the never quiet city. Sitting on a swing made from his webs he was eating a sandwich from his favorite bodega. The grandmother of seven never took no for an answer after he had saved her life and that of her children several times over the years and had even knitted him a scarf once.

Peter still had that scarf.

Mask pulled up to sit along the ridge of his nose he had sat staring out into the world with a gargoyle above him for company. 

"You're softer than I pegged you for."

His senses didn't tingle and that alone kept him there, hanging like a booger from an impossibly high building, and taking a much deserved bite from his sandwich. A cuban torta with extra adobo. 

"So. Kid. Got a name?"

Silence.

Peter chewed and ignored the floating man whose stare went from curious to frustrated.

"It's rude to not speak when spoken to."

Shoving the last of his food into his mouth Peter wiped the crumbs from his chin, pulled down his mask, and with a thumbs up, ripped an end of his webbed swing.

Plummeting like a bowling ball down... Down... And with a well-aimed (practiced) web swung himself away from sight. Iron Man wouldn't find him, not when Peter knew of a well hidden niche that he could slip into and not be seen or leave a heat signature.

Something that Iron Man was trying to do and Peter was grateful for his sensitive ears. 

.

Next was Captain America. Decked out in his uniform and shield. It was a pretty wicked shield and one that Peter had caught before it could hit the cyborg that was destroying a nameless street of the city. 

Spiderman ignored the shouts of 'traitor' and the arrows that followed him but Peter was more than a flexible arachnid. He was quite familiar with this street. It was the street that housed a shit ton of kids.

Kids that had loved it when he opened the fire hydrants or handed out frozen pops because Peter loved kids.

Not because he was an Omega.

Hell no.

He just loved kids. Kids loved him and thought he was **cool**.

Using the shield to block the occasional laser blast - because of course lasers - Peter lead the cyborg away. His webs helped to drag the thing and keep it from swinging wildly but Peter was more than bendy, more than, web's, he was strength and endurance. 

While the others had stopped trying to kill him - yes those were kill shots - Peter managed to drag the hefty piece of machinery away. Feet digging into the concrete, one hand fisting a bundle of his webs as the other held close to a shield that left his hand tingly. 

From the sewers a mass of crab like machines took the Avengers attention and as he finally reached an open area of an eight lane street Peter didn't panic when the cyborg finally broke free. The webbing shredding and as he fell from the slack Peter turned and tucked himself behind the shield in time for a powerful beam to hit the Vibranium and drag him backwards from the force.

Even in the face of death he thought it was the cool. So cool. 

This wasn't his first time facing a cyborg. A giant imitation of a man decked out in weaponry with a human brain attached in its center. Cyborgs bled green and their eyes were yellow pinpoints of awareness. 

Cool but creepy. 

Very creepy. 

With one hand he sent out a web, latched onto a bus and swung it towards the cyborg that put all its attention to the massive vehicle, using each arm to fire laser beams - still so cool - missing Captain America's shield that hit where the brain sat.

Right side, 8 inches from the center, shield at a 70° angle.

A stream of green blood - plasm - and brain matter coated the streets. The shield hit the ground at a roll and lodged into the side of a brick building. A hair's breadth away from the man who had aimed arrows at his head.

Peter was sad that he missed. Not that he couldn't have killed the man but Spiderman had an image to keep up and he was sure kids were peaking through blinds. 

If Hawkeye stared at the shield with wide-eyed 'what the fuck', Peter accepted that as payment.

Asshole.

Had Peter been... Well... _Nicer_... He would have thrown himself back into the fray helping the Avengers finish iff the crab robots except Peter wasn't _that_ nice and he wasn't _that_ forgiving.

Padding to the twitching machinery Peter took a moment to web himself a mat on the ground and take apart the cyborg. He was quick, knowing exactly what he wanted and where to find it, bundling it in his own web Peter pulled up the edges and folded the edges together and without a backwards glance he left. 

Fuck the Avengers.

.

As Spiderman Peter had the nasty habit in bumping into random heros with hero size complexes and it got to the point where he just waved at the several who tried to stalk him. 

They weren't as stealthy as they thought they were.

As Peter Parker there was no Avengers just debt and homework. The two worlds very rarely collided. Peter Parker was a nobody... Well... He was on the Deans List and top 12% of the university when it cam to grades even if his attendance was far from stellar. 

Thankfully he had made a friend with a doctor who wrote really nice perfectly excusable doctor notes. 

He had done the math. It would be a 2.8% chance he would catch the eyes of anyone Hero related. Nothing he did as a regular schmoe would catch anyone's attention. 

Really.

Honestly.

Of course he never fraction in his own Parker Luck. 

Fuck his Parker Luck and Fuck his inability to think properly after a near 27 hours of no sleep and a lab all to himself. At 1am he had the building to himself and the key card to prove it! 

At 1 am and still wide-eyed with a brain that wouldn't shut off, Peter shouldn't have been allowed near anything that contained chemicals besides H2O. Instead he had 2 walls dedicated to his scribbles with a rainbow of color - thank you crayola - a pyramid of Styrofoam microwaveable ramen and a teetering tower of hot pocket boxes, and a keurig. 

He had an unlimited - well half a box left - of hot chocolate to tide him over and a bag of mini marshmallows to keep the shakes away as he worked on his thesis. Technically his thesis was typed, edited, and awaiting a last read through BUT he was stuck. 

He was so close to creating the perfect drug that he was vibrating with a desperate energy as his friends - the machines scattered around the room - worked to show him if his calculations were correct or he had to start again. 

Staring at the board Peter needed to distract himself from the whirring and beeping. Headphones in place he jump started his bluetooth and filled the silence with his google playlist set to play his thumbs up.

As it was so late and he was alone in the building Peter didn't think singing along to his playlist would be a big deal. Being an Omega he had few quirks that were... Questionable. 

Omega's were notorious for their allurement beyond their scent. Many were artists, creators of music, rhythm, designers, they were architects, chefs, Omegas were once considered Sirens and Muses of the God's... While Peter could sketch and recite the periodic table backwards and forwards he could sing.

There was something about his voice that could draw attention or put someone to sleep if he so wished. A lullaby sung softly and with his will alone he could hush a colicky baby in minutes much to the relief of the parents he had babysit for. 

Peter blamed Toni Braxton. 

Peter blamed the open windows to the lab.

Peter blamed the chaos that happened less than a mile away from the University and the Hulk that somehow broke away from the group and all but bulldozed himself to the lonely building off set from the rest of the school. 

Peter blamed... Well... He blamed Tony Stark for being a nosy douche of a man and tuning into the voice singing a very heartfelt rendition of _**un-break my heart**_. 

Outside the lab Tony watches as the Hulk shifts back to being just Bruce and the man is swaying, "Omega." 

Tony's gaze swivel down to where Bruce is laid out on the ground, dazed. "What?" Had he heard the man right.

"Hulk..." It was difficult to speak so soon after a change but Bruce managed one more word, "Omega." And it didn't take much to put two and two together and Tony moved until he was hovering by the only window lit out of the building.

Hair a mess, clothes askew, ass perched on the a desk, sat a young man staring at a dry erase board and hands moved with each dip and rise. The boy was moving, a dry eraser in one hand and a purple marker in another as he wrote a different scribble. 

Tony was smart, brilliant even, but even if he squinted he couldn't make out what was written. There was numbers with familiar sequences but even JARVIS who had scanned the room was at a lost and suggested the scribbles were a code.

Quiet filled the room and he took that moment to shush his team and soon another song had the younger man humming, head nodding to a beat.

_"Send away for a priceless gift One not subtle, one not on the list Send away for a perfect world One not simply, so absurd In these times of doing what you're told_

_Keep these feelings, no one knows_

_What ever happened to the young man's heart? Swallowed by pain, as he slowly fell apart..."_

Maybe he was just tired but Peter didn't feel the eyes watching him. There was no warning from his spider senses just a quiet madness as he darted through the room. The keurig churning out hot chocolates and fueling the madness of no sleep and rainbow scribbles.

.

A.M. comes with bright lights and failure.

It was tempting to swipe the board clean but Peter was passed out under the only desk that would block out the sun with his lumpy backpack as a pillow.

It's an awkward way to sleep but Peter isn't picky. He's slept in worse conditions, even upside down once, and he had a 48 hour hold on that particular lab. 

The click of the door unlocking doesn't wake him. The tap of heeled leather Oxford shoes doesn't wake him as said shoes stroll through the room until they pause right where he was sleeping. 

Eye's hidden by sunglasses worth more than all the textbooks he was sleeping on, Peter didn't notice the frown on the man's face or the flurry of texts the man was sending before he crouched and woke Peter with a gentle nudge.

What did wake Peter was his alarm on his phone. A far too loud alarm that startled him enough he jerked awake, banging an elbow and his head on the desk. Swearing a storm, mind addled by sleep, Peter fumbled for his phone and dropped it.

Blinking at the pair of dress shoes, Peter held his breadth as he looked up... And up... Into familiar brown eyes. "Who the fuck are you?"

An eyebrow arched, "Everyone knows who I am."

No. Spiderman knew Tony Stark. Peter Parker could care less. "Are you lost?" 

"Nope." The man rocked on his heels, eyes gazing around. "Came to see you. Interesting finding someone like you here of all places."

Peter frowned, "I'm not squatting. I wouldn't be the first person catching a nap trying create something big."

"Big hu?" His hands slipped into his slack pockets, "the hot pockets are shit for your metabolism by the way."

"They're cheap and I'm broke. I'm guessing you wouldn't understand the concept of broke." Peter tried to lay back down and cover his eyes with his arm, legs folded. 

"Yet with no full-time job you somehow have managed to chip away at your student loans. I'm impressed."

A warning buzz settles over him and Peter keeps himself as nonchalant as he can unwilling to give the Alpha the show of panic that he felt. "This is a school of side hustles. Take your pick and leave."

A moment passes in quiet but Tony doesn't leave. Why would he? "Quite rude." The man murmurs, "Is that anyway to..."

"Leave before I call security." Peter interrupts, "You're a strange old man alone in a room with a sleeping student, only perverts stay where they're not wanted."

"Pervert? Pervert!"

"Yes. Pervert." Arm dropping away Peter made a point to glare into the yellowish hue of the glasses. "I've asked you to leave and you refuse. You are not my professor or the janitor. This is my lab and either you picked the lock or bribed someone and I'll be sure to tell the Dean that a creepy old man was allowed into his building to harass a student."

"Actually this is **my** lab. I **own** this building." Tony expected some form of recognition instead he got snark. 

"Did you piss on the wall or write your name on it like a petulant child?"

It's not often that Tony finds himself without words but his lips part in surprise before. He lets out a whoosh of air shakes his head. "For an Omega you're a mouthy little thing."

The quiet is met with Peter blinking and Tony waiting. If Peter was smart he would have immediately denied any accusation or stood in righteous anger... Instead the younger man laughed. "That..." Peter folded his hands on his stomach and grinned, "is quite a compliment thank you." Tony frowned and Peter batted his eyelashes. "I'm pretty enough to pass for an Omega has to be the nicest thing anyone has said to me this semester."

"Just this semester?" Tony couldn't help but ask.

"Yep." 

The quiet stretched far longer than was comfortable and Tony sighed, "I have a proposition for you."

"No."

His carefully constructed speech and patience flew out the window as he was interrupted, "No?"

"No." Peter repeated, slowly. "N. O." He spelled out just in case.

"No? You can't tell me no."

"I can, I did, and I don't care." Peter frowned before he unfolded himself and crawled out from under the desk and brushed the dust off his wrinkled two-day old clothes, "Alphas who can't accept a no and argue over the word are a danger to society." Tony wasn't sure how someone that wasn't eye level could make him feel small.

"Do you know who I am?" The kid arched a brow, took a step back, and eyes him from the tips of his shoes to his perfectly coiffed hair. 

"Yes." Tony preened, "You're a misogynistic ass hole who thinks you can walk into my lab unannounced and get away with harassing a student and bringing up genders as if the position of my scent glands justifies your casual dismissal of my constitutional rights. You can't belittle or coerce me into agreeing to anything you have to say based on your purse strings or that you imply ownership on a building that was built from multiple donations. If I was an Omega I have every right to kick you in the nuts and get away with scratching your eyes out."

Tony's lips pressed into a firm irritated line.

"Seeing as I'm not I'll just settle for telling you to get the fuck out of my lab or I will scream murder. I'm a beta on beta kinda guy, so keep your paws off my no-no spots."

It was unexpected, Tony twitched as Peter's hands touched him - shoved him really - right out the door. Tony would never admit to sputtering or tripping over his own feet as he was **pushed** out the lab and the door firmly locked behind him. 

Confused and slightly embarrassed he adjusted his blazer and nonchalantly walked away. _I'm a beta on beta kinda guy..._ the words are like oil and water, his skin tingles where the younger man's hand roamed, the heat that made that primal part of his brain rear up and whisper _Omega_.

.

Spiderman was an escape. 

There was times when he could swing away his worries with dizzying feats of near deaths, the adrenaline rush doing more for him than any drug on the market. 

There was times, like that morning, when he would climb to the highest point, tuck himself into a corner, and hide. He was a millennial with a safe space and it was the safest space to exist in N.Y. 

Just him and the pigeons. 

Times like this he wondered how far he could fall without instinct there to make him survive and carry on another day? 

Curling in on himself he hugged his knees tight to himself and let the tears fall. It wasn't often that he cried but when he did it was usually quiet and when he was alone. No one could see him weak, no one could see him break, no one could... A trumpet broke his depressive silence. An unexpected noise at an impossible height except it was a drone. 

The four propellers were whisper quiet and a white flag waved in the wind.

"Fuck." Summed it up.

A 3d hologram appeared and it was the image of Princes Leia kept him sitting, curious, vs jumping off the ledge. "Hello itsy bittsy spider."

Peter narrowed his eye's and flicked out a web, the drone was quick to swerve.

"You're cordially invited to attend a gathering..." Diving off the building was a better option than listening to Tony Stark invite him to a Tea Party as if they were _friends_. You don't forgive people who tried to kill you.

Especially if they didn't apologise.

Especially if they stalked you.

.

Since being bitten by a radioactive spider like some weird comic book character, Peter had gone through physical and mental changes. Presenting as an Omega had come later, in fact his first spike of heat happened during a particular difficult battle with none other than Kingpin himself.

It had been a gory fight with Peter having to plow through layers of underlings from normal everyday thugs to enhanced goons that were blood thirsty to get the bounty Kingpin had put on his head.

It was a hefty bounty too.

Just enough where Peter contemplated killing himself off for profit. Kingpin had been his usual boastful self and holding a weapon that was more sci-fi than the usual glock.

They had stood in a penthouse that had made him hyper aware he was dripping blood on the cream-colored carpet and the beautiful statues were judging him. 

Kingpin had a spiel like all super villains and Peter had listened as his mind raked over how he would survive this encounter when the A.C. kicked on. Cool filtered air pushed from the vents, Peter had shivered as it passed over his heated flesh that peaked from the patches of bare skin, it had taken moments for that devilish curl of the Kingpin's lips to unfurl and something else come forth.

Kingpin was a force of human nature. Built by weights and sheer spite. He was aggression, darkness, he was the devil amongst demons, he was a pendulum that swung between the dark side of the underworld and the light side of a family man. 

Most importantly. 

Kingpin was an Alpha. 

An Alpha tied to a Beta and a son.

Dark blue eyes shifted, bleeding red before the massive bulk of a man lifted the gun and fired a single shot. The sizzle of the blast prickled the side of his face as the beam shot over his shoulder and the thump of a body falling told him that his spider senses were off. 

Peter had studied many things but Omegean Biology wasn't one of them. He knew the fundamentals like many but the liquid fire that pooled at the base of his spine and slithered its way up left him standing rigid and an ache between his legs had him hissing.

Peter didn't remember closing his eyes, he didn't hear Kingpin move, his senses were so out-of-order he flinched when a large hand settled atop his head. "Shhh." Peter felt himself tugged into Kingpins girth, it had made him tremble and a whine had escaped him.

Later. Much later. Peter would learn that the man who was intent on killing him had cuddled him on an impossibly massive bed, the Alpha crooning, hands that could bend steel caressed him like a lover would, and for three days _helped_ him through his first heat.

> _"Call me Wilson. Wilson Fisk."_

Awareness had come in doses. The feel of soft cotton against his bare skin, the slick between his thighs, the ache somewhere deep and personal, classical music played in the background drowning the hitch in his chest, relief had been a burst of gratitude as shaky fingers touched the familiar texture of his torn mask.

The stretchy fabric cover his nose an encircled his cheeks and curved along his brow, seemingly glued to his skin. Hair, ears, lips, and chin were as exposed as the rest of him.

Before Peter could sit up a hand came from no where and settled on his chest, thumb and finger digging into his collarbone as he was pushed back into the mattress.

Pliant.

Weak.

A mess. 

Kingpin was a solid presence he hadn't noticed until that moment. Hard naked lines with impossibly wide shoulders and solid smooth skin with not a hint of hair except for two perfectly sculpted eyebrows that furrowed in contemplation. "Where do we go from here Spiderman?" 

It had been when that hand slipped and encircled his throat did Peter feel his body involuntarily move. Legs splaying openly and back arching as a familiar haze of arousal overwhelmed the need to run.

Wilson was an exceptional lover. His first Alpha, his first Knot, Peter never expected to be the _Mistress_ of his arche nemesis, he didn't expect to have heats that were bursts of short frequent intervals, he didn't expect the open invitation to spend it with the Alpha, and he didn't expect the absolute possessiveness of Wilson or just how much control an Alpha like Wilson had over an Omega like Peter. 

_"Save the world but you will not interfere with my organization and you will be my most prized possession."_

It was a story twisted by biology, twisted by the illogical logic of an emotion one could say was love if you squint, and the reason Spiderman dressed as a different character jumped from the side lines and into traffic, using his strength to flip a car that was chasing the Kingpin. 

It rankled something deep that the urge to protect made him feel like a villain and the mocking laughter of Kingpin getting away hit him hard. 

Fighting The Avengers to keep the Alpha alive had never been part of the plan, watching the chase from a random store front window, hearing the helicopters, it was a spur of the moment decision to steal a face bandana with a skull smile and a pair of polarized wide swimming goggles.

Running fast and hard he didn't use his webs and instead focused on his natural talent and that primal urge to protect the knot-head responsible to keep him blissed out for his next upcoming heat.

Toe to toe with Captain America and the Winter Soldier was... Thrilling. As Spiderman there was an awareness of maintaining his cool but as a stranger with a cheap mask and flannel shirt Peter could catch the Winter shoulders Vibranium arm and force the man to the ground before kicking Captain America's shield and tossing the pompous soldier away like a rag doll.

Peter's body moves on auto pilot as he flips backwards and moves with grace and fluidity as a mess of weaponry aim for him. Between Iron Man's blasts, Hawkeyes arrows, Black Widows bullets, Peter feels like he's dancing on the edge of death and it leaves him feeling hot and aroused. 

Slipping beneath an abandoned truck he sticks his hand on the underside and with hard pushes against the asphalt he uses the truck to plow through what traffic is left and holding his breadth Peter pushed up with his leg and the truck flipped, the roof smashing on the ground and catching sparks.

Letting out a whoop, his flannel shirt wafting in the air he grinned behind the mask as he surfed for a stretch of time before coming to a halt and with Iron Man trailing him Peter ran.

Hard.

Fast.

Through the city.

Forcing the Avengers to chase **him** and not Kingpin.


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get heated. Peter flirts. Kingpin... Well Kingpin is an asshole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: dubious consent at the end.

**Quietly Jaded**

_**2** _

* * *

It takes **forever** to lose the Avengers. 

Iron Man was a persistent fucker, the soldiers were limitless cardio, sneaky drop-ins, and the Falcon was a snarky hotness that swooped in with a wicked set of wings that made Peter want to touch.

Maybe it had been the wings? Maybe it had been the, "Naughty boy." Comment or maybe Peter was just horny but Peter took great delight in pinning the man down and whispering in his ear before he was up and running. 

Falcon had a nice laugh. It left him feeling warm and moist.

Shit.

Fuck.

Moist? When did his body decide to get _moist_ mid battle?

Peter had taken advantage of the twists n' turns of the city streets and lost himself in Hell's Kitchen. Along the way he had lost his flannel shirt, the wife beater was black and slick with blood and torn. His pants were ruined and his shoes had gone missing along the way. Barefoot and running through the streets wasn't ideal but the bottoms of his feet were made to take the gravel and questionable bits without problems. 

The familiar churn of his heat was an unnecessary distraction and totally not what he needed. Peter still needed to study for an exam worth 35% of his grades that semester and fuck if he didn't need to pass it less he was out from a grant that had strict guidelines. Leaning heavily against a brick wall Peter breathed through the stabbing pain of his insides rearranging and his genitals altering themselves only nature would curse Omega's with. 

"Look what we got here boys." 

Peter closed his eyes and prayed for patience. Ignoring the small crowd of Alpha men that seemed to crawl from the shadows Peter pushed himself forward. His mask was still in place but one lens of his goggles had cracked

"Someone let their Omega out." The group laughs as if it were a funny joke.

It wasn't.

Far from it.

Peter wasn't amused, "Touch me and I'll rip your arm off and beat you and your friends with it." Where was his Alpha? He wanted his Alpha.

One, the largest of the group, stepped forward and Peter reminded himself he didn't need an Alpha. He was Peter Parker aka Spiderman and he needed no Alpha! He was an independent Omega and if he just happened to rip the arm off the Alpha that tried to touch him **without** permission? Well. So be it.

Peter made good on his threat and did in fact beat each Alpha with the arm that swung nearly useless by the end of it. The group either on the ground unconscious or scattered and Peter was feeling far too warm far too annoyed far too... Ugh. 

Running only made him dizzy but Peter pushed until he couldn't, flopping boneless on a stoop and dropped to his side. This heat shouldn't have started so soon.... a shadow casts over him and Peter could feel the low hum of his spider senses warn him but it was a familiar face that peers down at him.

"Naughty Omega, we've been searching the city for you." The man hunches over and picks him up with utmost care.

"Alpha..." The words are heavy on Peter's tongue and he smells his Alpha but doesn't feel or sense the man.

"Shh Omega. Your Alpha is waiting for you." Lynch was a Beta man, a right hand man of the Kingpin, and had been on the prowl for the wayward boy. Secrets were secrets and Lynch knew better than to open his mouth when it came to the boy in his arm's.

A white van sat running, a logo for a cleaning service doing nothing to hide who it belonged to. The doors were open and guarded by a single woman accessorized with enough weaponry to send residents indoors and screens closed.

Lynch stepped inside and sat gingerly as he adjust the boy in his hold. The doors closed with a thump and lock, lights inside springing on as the woman sat in her own seat, fist banging on the partition. The van drove off, not a word needing to be said.

Peter wiggled and whined, doing his best to sit properly, pushing his nose into the crook of the man's throat but he didn't smell the familiar whif of an expensive citrus aftershave or the smoke from cigars that were rich and earthy. "Alpha..." Peter would whine, confused, and Lynch would grimace as slick puddles in his lap and stain his pants. 

"How do Alphas find this arousing?" It tumbled out and of course there was no answer. They were all Beta's choking on the sour tang of Omega Heat pheromone.

The van rolls to a stop and the doors open from the outside. The woman moves first, her weapon hiked up and ready. Lynch is prepared to follow but Peter's fingers clenched where they were holding and his head jerked to the entrance of the van, nose lifted in the air, sniffing. "Alpha?" 

Lynch is left swearing when the boy peels himself from his lap and is running.

✖

Wilson Fisk is many things.

Too many things.

Too many projects, too many henchman, too many businesses, too little time but he makes time. Sitting in his chair he impatiently awaits the one creäture that could be his downfall but he is a man. Once upon a time he was a loyal man to a beautiful wife who bore him a son. An Alpha could ask for no more but... 

Best not to dwell.

It was an open dirty secret between few people. The Kingpin and menace that was Spiderman. Just a handful of people - his closest - knew that Spiderman was *his Omega. 

The _Hero_.

Still to this day Wilson can't quite wrap his mind around the fact that Spiderman was an Omega let alone made his knot throb in anticipation. It was an unexpected surprise, still a year later and he was no closer to finding **who** his Omega was. The tidbits dropped during their fevered meetings were like bread crumbs and he managed to pin together - college student, brilliant, and hungry.

Spiderman had never given him a name so Wilson settled on Omega. Simple and sweet and all his. 

The current location for the crew was underground. A parking garage was above them but the basement was well lit, spacious, secure, and had access to the kitchens. Tables scattered around the place as meals were being eaten. Wilson had managed a bread roll but the thought of food, no matter how delicious, didn't sit well so he sipped his bourbon and smoked his cigar as the battle plans came to a close there was a commotion in the halls. 

Wlison glanced at the table laden with food. Heavy on the sweet fruits, meats, cheeses, all one bite morsels. A tumbler sat bedazzled with tiny diamonds and it was an obscenely decadent cup with a straw just for water. 

The doors to the rooms were locked and barred from the inside. It was a heavy steel door Wilson picked out himself. 

The fist that went through it was a sight to behold and his command for his lackeys to "Stand down." Was met with fidgets. The door was torn down and a barefoot bleeding Omega strutted in the room. The Alphas all took immediate steps back, many covering their noses, and one unlucky sod broke from the crowd to approach.

A word wasn't uttered, just a growl and Peter didn't waste time twisting the man's head and dropping the fool without care. 

_There you are_ , Wilson thought proudly, _my savage of an Omega_. Lethal and Heat driven was a dangerous combination.

Wilson stubbed his cigar on the tablecloth, "Leave." Those around couldn't leave quick enough and a few managed a glimpse of the Omega climbing atop Kingpin with a whine of "Alpha..."

✖

Heats shouldn't leave him feeling so lethargic and sore but the urge to crawl back into bed and cocoon himself in the egyptian cotton was strong but Peter really needed to pee.

The bathroom was massive and expensive with chrome and marble. The floors through the apartments were always warm and the shower was sinful with far too many shower heads and Eucalyptus hangs from one meant to calm his inner Omega. It works. Too well. 

Looking in the mirror it takes Peter a minute to realize that he's seeing himself... All of himself... Every line and tired bruise under his eyes, no mask, no goggles, just smooth naked skin. The marble under his fingers crack and crumble.

Suddenly the bathroom feels far too small as Kingpin stands behind him. The mirror is massive enough where all of the man from the sink height and up is visible. A chin settles atop his head and arms that could kill a man wraps around him and Peter feels his body give in. He settles against the warmth and security of the Alpha all the while his heart is thundering in his chest and worry gnaws at his mind. 

"Peter Benjamin Parker." 

Peter closes his eyes at his name.

His legal name.

What the actual fuck?

"Such a prestigious degree for an Omega. How is your thesis coming along?"

The arms tighten and Peter manages to push out, "Good."

Kingpin smiles, just a twitch of his lips, "For so long I've been searching for you. The hidden face beneath a Hero's mask and you've been just out reach."

"Wil..." The arms tightened cutting him off.

"An Omega hiding in a University that caters to Betas. Quite brilliant but I just bet the world would love to see your accomplishments hmm?" Peter shook his head, "No?" That smile returned, "Scared to lose all that money hmm? The Beta scholarships and grants must be worth keeping your gender a secret?"

"Wil..." Peter did his breadth to inhale but it was hard to breathe. He should break free. Swing. Something. Only he felt _weak_ and guilty.

"As Spiderman you are free to wander the streets but you're more than a cartoon character for the newspapers Peter." The air shifts, there's a wild darkness that had no place in the moment and Peter feels it. Fear. "You are **my** Omega. No one is allowed to touch you, no one should _scent_ you." Kingpin whispered in his ear, "If you scent another person I will burn this city to the ground and leave you to dance in the ashes."

The arms release him and Peter just manages to catch himself on the marble sink. Kingpin's hands are as rough as they are gentle, moving him so he's properly bent over, cheek against the polished marble, ass in the air, and legs nudged open. There's no foreplay just pressure and the burn of the thick cock head stretching him wide. 

Without the heat clouding his mind or his slick to lube the way, Peter feels every thick inch pushing into him until Kingpin bottoms out with a groan. 

They'd always had heat sex, never this. 

By now he should've been in a limo service on his way home or swinging through the city. "Alpha... Alpha..." Slow deep strokes drive him crazy.

Kingpin grips the shaggy locks of hair and tugs. The bite of pain is met with thrust that makes Peter's toes curl. "See that baby, you want this, need my cock deep in your cunt like a good whore for your Alpha." 

Peter whines. He wants to close his eyes and just get it over with but he can't. His flushed face, the strong wide lines of his Alpha, the dirty words...

"If you want to act like one," Kingpin adjusts his stance and Peter follows as the man backs up. Two hands grip his waist and fuck into him like he was nothing more than a doll. Hanging there, mind numb, ass on fire, on the cusp of an orgasm. "I'll treat you like one."

"Fuck! Alpha!" Peter's hands scramble for purchase only able to grip the hands clenching his side's. His feet try to kick out but Peter is dangling in the air, the breath knocked out of him with each thrust.

"Scenting that hunk of metal, am i not enough for you that you leave a puddle of slick on a Betas lap hmm?"

Peter isn't sure how long he's hovering on the edge of pain and orgasm. His cock is stiff, his nuts swollen and sensitive as they drop from wherever they recede into during a heat, and just as he feels his cum boiling at the base of his cock. He's dropped onto the hard heated floor. Sprawled out as his legs couldn't keep him up. 

Hot spurts of cum criss cross his back and the Kingpin groans until he shakes the last bit out and without a word walks out. 

Peter wants to touch himself, relieve the desperate need to cum but instead he ignores the burning in his eyes and crawls to the glass shower. 

He needed to leave. He needed to run and not look back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a reason to the madness.  
> Just remember.  
> Not all love stories are healthy.  
> In A/B/O stories You see alot of abusive relationships where the Omega stays - as much as I adore a good Yandere character i also like my Peter to have a bite.   
> ❤   
> Next we have the _the walk of shame_ and a surprise visit.  
> Omegas are complicated in this world. Especially Peter.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter runs.  
> He just wants to be left alone but really. Where's the fun in that?
> 
> * 👈 found on Pinterest.

**Quietly Jaded**

**3**

> _*The toughest part of letting go is realizing the other person already did..._

* * *

There is no car waiting.

There's no one but the receptionist as Peter leaves the building where Kingpin both works and owns a private suite Peter once considered a bit of his own. Every heat was spent on the top floor with Beta servants hired to cater to their needs.

That Omega part of him that didn't rear its ugly head often loved the tacky details of wealth. The shiny bits and pieces that sparkled and polished so Peter could enjoy gazing into hos reflection. 

His Omega could _finally_ be free to enjoy.

The shower had only washed away the days long sex fest and the cum that was like whip marks on his back. It made him feel... Dirty. He felt **dirty** and **used** and God if that didn't make him feel like absolute shit.

Useless _Alpha_ of a man. To make him, Peter, feel like trash while Kingpin was married and probably had a string of Betas falling into his lap. Peter had been sure he was the only Omega... But now... 

Barefoot and wearing the same dirty clothes as before, crusted in blood, smelling as foul as his mood Peter ran. No one could really stop him, he ran from the expensive eyesore of a building to his dorms. 

No one paid him any mind, he was just a college student running into campus like a crazy person. Just another day in the life of a University Student. No one looked twice at him, no one commented on his clothes, only a few looked him in the eye and looked away when they noticed his red rimmed eyes and the tear tracks he couldn't be bothered to swipe away.

Either he was a broken-hearted love-sick student or a student fucked over by a frat. 

Prepared to break his door handle - he had no keys - Peter didn't expect to find his door ajar. The dorms only saving grace was that they were solo. They weren't the biggest of spaces, just enough room to sleep and study but the bathrooms were a communal nightmare. 

Pushing the door opened with one hand he peered in expecting a trashed room, instead he got the last person he expected sitting on his chair, laptop in a lap, a laptop that was password protected, reading. 

Peter didn't bother to say a word, just turned around to leave but another man was standing in his way. The hall was a one way and the tiny window at the end wasn't wide enough for him to fit through if he ran and smashed through it.

No. Spiderman would do that. Burst through the wall but Peter wasn't Spiderman.... Well... He was but secret identities kind of kept him standing right where he was.

"I don't have time for this." Peter says as he rolls his neck and prepares himself for a battle. If he couldn't crawl the walls he could still posture. "I'm not writing any papers and no I don't have access to party drugs and no I won't make them in the fucking lab." He could pretend he didn't know the man in front of him was Falcon - still hot - and Dr. Banner. The Hulk. 

What was his life?

Sam's eyes narrowed and his face didn't so much as twitch and Peter couldn't help but appreciate the view. The superhero was dressed in a form-fitting button up, jeans and boots. Peter's gaze drifted over the man who eventually cleared his throat, "Eyes up boy." And fuck if that wasn't hot. 

Peter was a sick, sick, arachnid. Now wasn't the time to forget that his habit of **looking** wasn't hidden by a mask. 

"Is that how you're able to pay for this?" Peter turns slightly, enough to see the Doctor while still keeping his eye on the Falcon. Bruce held the laptop and Peter eyed the familiar tiny print of a word doc that had tiny light sabers along the border. "Selling Methamphetamine and LSD?"

"Are you a Narc or part of Security? Less you have a search warrant I can call the police and have you arrested." Of course the man ignores him and holds the laptop with one hand and scrolls. Peter holds his breadth, did he have another copy of his thesis saved somewhere?

Fuck! He wasn't sure. 

Fucker better not drop it!

"You're working on a formula to stop Heats all together. That's dangerous you know." 

Of course Peter knew, he wasn't stupid. "The Omega market is in need for new and improved medication."

"Sounds more like you want to make Omega's sterile. That's illegal by the way." The doctor gave him a look and Peter bristled.

"So is forced breeding but we still have Omega auctions and a blue pill to force a heat. Sounds like rape to me but of course an Alpha like you would see it as sterilization and not freedom of choice."

"Like me?" Bruce didn't bother to look up from the screen, his gaze riveted on the charts and formulas on the page. 

"Your first thought was probably why an Omega would be so cruel to an Alpha." Bruce's gaze shifted from the screen to Peter who was doing his best to ignore the curious stares from the handful of students hovering to get by or just nosy and Sam's attempt to push them back. "My first thought has always been why are Omegas treated like porcelain dolls and whore's with limited rights on their reproductive organs? Did you know that a sterile Omega can be put down like a rabbid dog? Tossed on the street or sold into _legal_ brothels. Good enough to take a knot but a waste to society if they can't pop out kids like a pez despencer."

"Omega's are on the decline."

"If you spout facts from a bias Alpha census you'll get the numbers you can use to push archaic reforms through congress. Omega's have never been on the decline, they are just getting better at living their best life without an Alpha forcing them to stay home barefoot and pregnant."

"Is that why..." 

Peter interrupts, not wanting to hear what he hopes he wouldn't hear. First Tony Stark now **this**? "I'm creating a formula to ease the pains of an Omega's heat? Yes. Am I actively sterilizing the masses like some mad scientist on the wing of a gender terrorist group? No. I don't have time to stand here and discuss the fuckery that is the system that favors one gender over another."

"Talking from experience?"

Peter let's out a short laugh, he shakes his head and wishes he could punch the man in the face. "Yes." He could admit that much, "I knew a girl back in high school. She was brilliant. Smarter than me. She had a full ride to any school she wanted and then one day she doesn't show up. I graduated and didn't think about her, I thought she had transferred high schools to attend a college out of the state. Found out later that she had presented as an Omega and had done the legal and proper thing and went to the clinic. Her full ride, scholarships, grants, everything were taken from her and every aplication she had put out into the universe came back with a _'Sorry but No'_ stamped on it. 

They gave a bullshit story because it's technically illegal to discriminate and so she did what any smart girl would do. She sued. The ink wasn't dry before her father wrote her off and shipped her to a place that took in wayward Omega's and sets them on the right path. A conversion camp, read up on those places, archaic and barbaric but she ran away several times, they gave her some meds to calm her _hysteria_ and mysteriously an early heat was triggered and she now has a set of twins with another on the way while mated to a man as old as her father and lives on a ranch away from her dreams." 

It was a true story and he missed their text conversations but her social media had been wiped from the internet. "Tell me Doctor. Is that fair? Is it so bad that an Omega wants to be like you? Educated and working in a field that could cure cancer or help the helpless?"

Bruce closes the laptop, "An Omega's needs and desires are always taken into consideration. No different from when a Beta Man marries a Beta Woman..."

"No. No. No." Peter shakes his head, "Look, why are you here? Clearly it's not to educate your primitive mindset of Omega affairs."

Bruce's lips quirk upwards and spared a glance to Sam who shrugged a shoulder. "We're here to offer you a job." 

Peter opens his mouth, prepared to shoot down the same _offer_ that had been given by Stark but he shuts the words down and instead his brows furrow, confused. "A job?"

"This," Bruce taps the lid of the laptop, "would be quite a feat if you could make it passed the FDA. Probably can cut your losses in half with the right backer. We're prepared to offer you a lab that would put the schools to shame and myself if you can put up with a knot head Alpha."

"Back in my day knot head Alphas were for the jocks." Sam added, his hands in his pockets. "Never been called one though."

"That can change." 

"The urge to put you over my knee is very strong at the moment." The man rocked on his heel with a silly grin on his face and Peter considered it. 

"See, when it comes from you that's just hot. Unfortunately as a Beta I have a safe word for those types of games."

"Hmm..." Dark eyes crinkled with humor and Peter ignored them in favor for the Doctor who was staring at him. An unwavering gaze that made him itch to climb the walls and find a nice corner to hang. 

"This job. What does your boss want in return? Do I sell my soul away to the devil or can I write this off as an internship on my résumé?" Peter met the stare full on. He refused to be cowed. 

"Peter." He could sense the other man stand closer, feet quiet on the polished hardwood, only Peter wasn't going to look away from the Doctor. No. Not when those Brown eyes swam with green. "Peter." What would happen if he pushed? Would the Doctor change into the Hulk? "Omega." Peter's nostrils flared as he inhaled the subtle odor of Alpha, a familiar scent that he could remember inhaling as he pinned the man down... Ah shit. He forgot about that. How did one forget they fought against the Avenger? Only he would, a new Peter Parker skill. Fuck.

"Again with the compliments." Shifting his gaze from the Doctor to the Hero, Peter forced himself to not react as the Falcon stood close enough they could count each others pores. "If I were an Omega I'm sure I would have enticed you into my bed by now. Alpha's are notoriously easy."

"I bet you're such a good Omega."

"Compliments don't make Beta's wet." 

Sam stepped closer but Peter kept himself still, the pulse at his throat fluttering. "I'm not enhanced like the others but I have an exceptional nose." Sam's hand hovered over a particular spot on the wife beater, a tear that was scrunched with dried blood. "Beta Synthetics work on the surface but it doesn't hide your blood."

Peter clenched his teeth and spoke unable to unclench, "Omega's bleed the same as everyone."

"Except when they're on their heat." Sam settled his hand atop the ripped cotton, "It's stronger when the blood is dried."

"Hands off."

"You weren't saying that when you were straddling me on the pavement." Peter glanced down at the hand where fingers caressed his bare skin, "You smell clean but you didn't change your clothes."

"One."

"We'd never treat you like that."

"Two."

"None of us would treat you like a whore."

Peter gripped the wrist at his side, the urge to squeeze and pulverize the bones straining beneath his grip was strong but Peter couldn't afford to let his guard down. "Three." Sam winced and tried to tug his arm downwards but Peter wouldn't budge. "Leave or I will press charges against the Avengers for harassment. I don't care how much you think you know, you clearly don't know shit if you're accusing me of lying about my gender. Are you trying to get my scholarships and grants retracted?"

"You're not denying it was you working with the Kingpin." His words were low, the pain in his hand ignored. 

It happened without second guessing, the laugh. It bubbled out of him and Peter took several steps back, his back hitting the wall. Maybe he was going crazy, it was possible, his life was one twisted novela. "Organized crime? Me? You think that was me?" Peter shakes his head, "This." He gestures to his clothing, "Is none of your concern. I owe you no explanation, in fact you coming here is enough for me to file charges with the police."

"Peter..."

"No." He interrupted the Doctor, "You not only break into my dorm room, you hacked my MacBook, you also are accusing me of lying about my gender which is none of your fucking business and could get me booted out of school and worse you're accusing me of gang activity. None of you are carrying any sort of warrant and have no legal reason to accost me in any way. To top it off you're propositioning for sex like I was an Escort?" Peter glared at the two, "Take your offer and shove it up your ass and if I see either of you or that perverted old man again I will call the police."

Peter wouldn't hear another word from either man and handed over his MacBook before locking himself in his dorm room. Only when he heard the footsteps of the two men march to the elevator did he relax enough to thump his head on the door and close his eyes, ignoring the trail of tears that fell.

What the fuck was his life coming to?

**to be continued...**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a fair warning. The next chapter will be _weird._  
>  Second warning. The chapter after the next chapter is weirder.
> 
> Tags Will be added with the next posting.  
> 💋💋


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not 100 for this chapter but I'm a sucker for Peter using his super quirks to make extra $$ aaaaand we dip into some drug usage.
> 
> *pintrest quote.

**Quietly Jaded**

**Chapter 4**

> _People are not addicted addicted to alcohol or drugs, they are addicted to escaping reality...*_

* * *

One letter.

Then another.

Then another.

Then another.

A visit to the Dean's Office and Financial Aid very nearly broke him down enough to consider if it was all worth it. He wasn't a quitter... He didn't get that far only to take a plunge.

No.

Instead Peter did what he did best. He thought outside the box... and burned it. The typed letters of his grant and scholarship monies being revoked due to 'possible perjury' and 'unforseen circumstances' broke something in him, his carefully planned future was ash in the wind.

Absolute fuckery.

He was good for the semester.

They couldn't ask for the monies returned since there was no proof Peter lied on any application. Watching the paper curl and char on a random rooftop that looked out into the city Peter sat as Spiderman.

Tilting his head back Peter stared into the night sky, the stars hidden behind pollution and city night-light, he wondered what more? Hadn't he given so much already? Family, friends, sweat, blood, his very life? 

A man could only take so much and Peter... and Peter could feel himself breaking. He was already broken but the band aids were fraying along the edges and if they gave he wasn't sure he'd be able to stitch himself together again. 

All he wanted was to be the person his Uncle Ben had deserved to save him. The scholar Aunt May had always hoped. A friendly neighborhood spider - a hero where the **Hero's** didn't bother to help. 

The buzz of his phone pulled him from his thoughts, the ashes on the ground scattered and blow away. A familiar number flashed on his screen and Peter didn't **need** the reminder of just how shitty his life had spiraled. The screen went dark and immediately after a _ping_ told him he'd receive yet another message he wouldn't read. 

Peter refused to shed another tear over a man, an An Alpha, that would treat him like... **that**. No. Kingpin had a wife and a string of lovers. If the asshole needed his dick wet Peter wouldn't be it. He wasn't a lap-dog that would present their ass when called.

No.

No!

The phone crumpled and twisted between his fingers. Useless. Peter stood and stomped on it until it was unrecognizable before running and jumping over the edge. The jolt of his web catching and him swooping through the air would be what he would miss the most.

It was time Spiderman took a break. 

✖

Peter Parker was more than flannel shirts with quirky t-shirts and discount sneakers. Beneath the guise of nerdom he could clean up nicely.

The spider bite was more than danger radar and a permanent velcro to nearly any surface. Peter had grown into his own character with abs and muscles he didn't do anything to achieve. There was no gym, no meal plans, just dumb luck, and a flexibility that made making money easier.

The city was a broke college students playground. Slinging cocktails, cooking party drugs in labs he broke into, and dancing. 

Pete had watched a few YouTube videos, visited a few strip clubs, taken one pole dance class, and went out into the world desperate to make his tuition.

It. Was. Scary.

The dim lights felt so bright, the pump of the music made his ears ache, the smells, the tastes, the stale air of desperation and depression beat him down more than the hands and eyes that molested him.

Peter understood why his coworkers drowned themselves in liquor and cocaine. There were few that enjoyed their job and Peter tried, he tried so hard to detach himself from the solo sessions of lap dances and hotel invites, he fell into a world that he had only seen from the sidelines. Cocaine didn't affect him like it did the others.

No.

It made him numb. 

The music wasn't so loud, the lights weren't as bright, he could **feel** the music, made him perform better with a grace that hadn't been there before. Peter could lose himself into the lyrics, hips swaying, his hands never lost their grip, his feet never stumbled, not even when he wore heels and he was sold to a newer, profitable crowd. 

A new club with costumes a better quality, the crowd distinguished, and God he fell harder than he promised himself he would. He was supposed to stay until he broke even but it became a habit. The numbness, the dim lights, the softer music notes, his spider senses were flat and he felt independent uncaring he was drowning in presidents and wading through snow. 

Best of all his heats never flared.

He didn't need Wilson Fisk.

Spiderman never stumbled across the Avengers,. Hell, Spiderman had turned into a ghost, whereabouts but a rumor in the tabloids.

Peter Parker didn't run into the civilians that played Hero's. There was no surprise visits on the streets or dressing rooms just random faces and open wallets.

It was perfect.

It was easy.

It was addicting.

He was addicted.

The music pulsed through the room. Scantily clad woman and men mingling, fixing their makeup, stretching, as they waited their turn. Peter wiped the powder from his nose and fixed the mask on his face. Black lace that matched the leather ensemble that made his white heels pop. A dusting of glitter had been spritzed on him to match the other pair set to go on stage with him. Each with their own section. 

The lights faded and brightened signaling their turn. "Break a leg." Someone calls out and Peter lifts up his middle finger with a laugh. 

The curtain flutters and the music changes. Each take their pose and Peter gets on his hands and knees. The floor glows purple from the lights and as the curtain parts he crawls out.

The routine is the same as it had been that week. Crawl, climb the pole, lick the polished steel, and twirl. 

It was the change of song that told him he was to _mingle_. Dance the edge of the stage and make room for the next performer, and after a while they all looked the same.

Blurred faces, mingled scents, the money is what mattered and when a crisp folded hundred-dollar bill sits atop the polished stage, Peter is there. 

It's the slow grind, the heels a faint glow in the black light, the leather was soft and meld to his ass, and Peter moved to the beat, grinding against the stage, body angled in the direction where the money came from.

Peter could dodge bullets and bench a bus, propping himself on his forearms and balancing himself steadily as he kicked out his legs in an imitation of a walk before spreading them in a split.

If he couldn't control his life then he sure as fuck could control his body. It was a rush like no other when the spot light turns to you, lost in the snow drifts and the thump of the beat pumping from the speakers, he didn't think twice as he all but slithered off the stage and into the crowd, his hands and elbows keeping him from actually touching the floor. 

_Stay on stage_ was the rule and Peter was good at balancing on the edge of company rules and mingling with his clientele. Until the lights moved over the crowd and the haze lifted just enough he could notice the lack of chairs, the lack of eyes that would watch him, linger on his strength or the curve the mold of his cock. 

There was a person.

Someone familiar yet he couldn't place the face but their bull was familiar. Peter eased himself back on stage and made to crawl away. A pole was just a few feet away and the song wasn't over, the hand that clamped on his ankle was an unwanted jolt to his system, the snow drifts made him ignore the tingling sense of danger that made him grit his teeth as he was dragged back to the edge of the stage and he gasped when a bare hand gripped at his bare thigh, fingers digging like they would crush him.

The lights on stage shut off, the dancers like statues, the crowd oddly silent as the room plunged into silence. 

Peter felt too lethargic, his muscles went oddly lax, he could feel himself lifted through the air and draped over a too wide shoulder, was he drugged?

A whine escaped him and Peter tried to push himself up, his hands failing to grip the fabric that was taut and it felt like his fists were beating against stone. 

"Shhh..." Large warm hands soothed over his thighs and Peter felt it, that spark of familiar warmth at the base of his spine, it had been ages since he last felt it.

"Alpha?" No. It couldn't be.

"You've been a bad Omega." The smack on his ass made him jump and his legs kick out but as he was carried out of the dark and into the warm air of the night, "Avoiding my calls, moving with no forward address, working here of all places." The growl that came from the Alpha had Peter reach out and grip what he could. A passing wall, the outer brick of the building. "I **own** this..." 

Peter wasn't sure why he felt so weak but he had enough strength to adhere to the brick, fingers digging into stone, he used what he had left in him to pull himself forward. It happened so quick, it must have caught the Kingpin by surprise because the man stumbled and Peter felt himself drop awkwardly but he was climbing. 

Heels making it complicated and the further he crawled up the walls he could feel the haze of the drugs replace the lethargy and the wisps of energy was enough to get him to the rooftop. 

Being near the Alpha like he was, was bad. Horrible in fact. How did... No. It wasn't time for questions. He needed to... to... get away. Peter wouldn't fall into that trap again. Not with that asshole. Never again. Fuck him.

"Ugh." He reaped, crinkling his nose as the night air shifted and Peter am but rushed to get back inside. He had one chance to grab his shit and leave.

Sober. He needed to get sober. That was it, he was done with more than just New York.

Down below Kingpin was giving orders, promising death to anyone who hurt *his Omega. "Find him! Bring him to me!"

✖

Screams, the small crowd of familiar faces scatter as the window is punched through and an arm reaches in to unlock the latch, it drops with a smack as the broken window - bullet proof - leaves enough space for a body to wriggle through and land in a crouch. 

Chest heaving, knuckles bruised, Peter stands to his full height and the silence stretches for far too long before one of the girls - Joyce - dressed in a silk robe, makeup half wiped away rushes over. 

"Peter!" She's hesitant to touch him but Peter doesn't blame her, he stinks of Alpha pheromones and it makes his skin itch. Kingpin had did his best to scent mark him and with time it would fade but until he scrubs at his skin with vinegar or hydrogen peroxide he was stuck with it. "What did you do?"

Because of course it's his fault. "Me? Nothing! I was fucking dancing not asking to be kidnaped and scent marked by a crazy Alpha." Peter swiveled his gaze to the manager, a far too tall man with a pinstripe suit and an unlit cigarette behind an ear. "No Alphas in a rut are allowed in the club, why was that asshole allowed in here?"

The man narrowed his eyes, "Watch your tone boy. Kingpin owns this building and everyone in it. Talking like that will get you killed."

"How did you get away?" Joyce asks, her hands hovering over him as Peter teeters but catches himself. 

"My heels." He lied, "I need to go I came back to get my stuff and give you back these shits." Peter made to unstrap the heels.

"If the Kingpin has taken a liking to you then you stay." The manager tries but Joyce may have the look of sweet innocence but her glare was note worthy. Shutting the man up and turning her attention back to Peter who dropped each heel on the floor.

"No sweetie, come back to my place. Stay another night."

"And have that asshole bother you? Fuck no." Padding to his locker Peter made quick work of slipping on his sweats and a hoodie and slipping on shoes bare foot.

"Let him go Joyce, you don't want problems." A dark-skinned man spoke up, lips pierced. 

The locker slammed shut and Peter padded his pockets making sure he at least had his wallet. "Jim's right. Hold onto my check K." 

"Wait! Come on, before you go one last hit for the road." Joyce jingles the pendant on her necklace. Shaped like a bullet with a prayer etched around it. Of all of them, she was the one that shared the most, her customers all knowing what drove her.

Peter hesitated, "I'm good. Gotta go before something happens."

"Pete, come on. It's cold out, it'll warm you up and keep you from tripping!" Her eyes went wide as she pushed and Peter, well Peter was a sucker for the rush. Anything to dull that ache that was his biology. A nod had her squealing and she was quick to unscrew the end and with steady hands lifted a decent mound of the drug and with practiced ease Peter took one last hit.

That was it.

Seriously that was it.

No more cocaine.

No more drinking.

No more dancing.

Peter was **done**.

_Lies... Lies... Lies..._

Jumping up and pulling himself through the window Peter didn't see the tall stripe wearing man pull out a wad of bills and hand it to Joyce while the others shifted in place, uncomfortable.

_**To be continued...** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be weird. If it makes little sense then ooops but it's a chapter where Peter has a bad trip and some shit goes down.

**Author's Note:**

> Kinda liking Spiderman with a villain and the villain winding up being a better option than the hero's.  
> We'll see.  
> :p  
> Ideas? Suggestions? Wants? Desires? Cookies?  
> Leave a comment 💋💜💀


End file.
